


Missing (Part 1)

by Tired (Decko)



Series: The Bet [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Competent Harry Potter, Concerned Tom Riddle, Dark Harry Potter, Dissociation, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Hurt Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Protective Tom Riddle, Slytherin Harry Potter, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decko/pseuds/Tired
Summary: The third oneshot in my The Bet universe.In Tom and Harry’s sixth year, Harry goes missing.  They know nothing except that he was kidnapped and — as far as they could tell — still alive.After going multiple weeks with no sign of him, Harry shows up again on his own.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: The Bet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006611
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	Missing (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot in my The Bet universe. It can probably be read separately, but I recommend reading at least the first oneshot in the series before reading this.

During their sixth year, Harry went missing.

He was missing for a couple of weeks. Very little information was found, aside from some evidence proving that it was definitely a kidnapping and that, as far as they could tell, Harry was still alive. The whole thing was kept as quiet as possible to avoid mass panic, though most of the sixth year Slytherins were more or less aware of what was going on. Not even Skeeter said a word.

For multiple weeks, there was no sign of him. Then, one day, he came back.

* * *

Harry stood, unnoticed, in the doorway to the common room. He scanned the room, looking for Tom.

A door opened and closed, and Harry looked, seeing Tom coming down the stairs.

Tom froze when their eyes met. Malfoy bumped into him and muttered a curse before noticing the reason for Tom’s sudden stop and freezing as well. Tom barely seemed to notice.

Tom was dressed as immaculately as ever, but Harry noticed there were bags under his eyes. Painful proof that someone cared for him.

Once he’d seen those bags under Tom’s eyes, his mind refused to let them go. He was well aware of the fact that he looked far worse, with his ripped and bloody clothes, but his mind simply refused to let it go.

Tom wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t moving. He might not have even been breathing. Harry thought distantly that he should say something.

“Hi, honey,” he heard himself say. “I’m home.”

He didn’t have the energy to wonder why that’s what he’d chosen to say, but it did the trick.

Tom walked towards Harry, who reflexively tensed but didn’t move away. He stopped in front of him, well within arm’s reach, but didn’t make any move to touch him. Even though he hated the distance, Harry was glad that Tom didn’t try to touch him, because he didn’t think he could handle it right then.

“Are you hurt?” Tom asked after a moment of silence.

“Not gravely,” Harry replied, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing urgent.”

“Do you know who took you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. A moment passed and Tom seemed about to ask more directly, but Harry continued before he could.

“You can’t kill them, Tom,” he said.

“And why not?” Tom asked.

Harry silently looked at him for a long moment before responding. When he did, it was in Parseltongue. _ “The blood isn’t mine.” _

Tom didn’t visibly react other than to look at Harry’s clothes again, reevaluating his previous assessment.

_ “Do you need any help?”  _ he asked in the same language.  _ “Hiding bodies or anything?” _

Harry shook his head.  _ “The bodies have been taken care of. Although…”  _ He trailed off, before starting again.  _ “Actually, could you burn my clothes once I get changed? I doubt I have the energy for an incendio.” _

“Of course,” Tom said, switching back to English.

In the silence that fell, Harry’s attention was once again brought to those circles under Tom’s eyes. He felt like he should say something, that Tom deserved to know everything that happened, but he just couldn’t.

“We can talk tomorrow,” Tom said easily, noticing the problem. “Go and get some rest.”

Harry wanted to thank Tom, but his voice had quit for the night. He wished he had it in him to hug him, or touch his hand, or anything, but he just didn’t.

But they didn’t need that. Tom understood.

So Harry simply gave a slight, grateful smile and walked passed him towards the dorms.

* * *

Harry woke up late the next day. He was completely awake, but couldn’t muster up the energy to move even an inch.

After some time, Harry couldn’t guess how long, he felt someone sit on the bed next to him. He automatically tensed slightly despite knowing it could only be Tom.

Harry felt as if it would take a mountain of strength to turn his head to look at Tom, but when he did, it was actually deceptively easy.

“I brought you something to eat,” Tom said, his voice quiet, but a faint blossoming headache distantly made its quiet presence known. “And I burned those clothes, as you requested.” Tom looked at Harry, seeming a bit better than the day before despite the persistent bags still under his eyes. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

He paused for a moment before making to stand. Harry reached out and touched his hand. He resisted the urge to grab it, but Tom easily stopped and sat back down.

Harry turned on his side, facing Tom, the movement sluggish but once again easier than he’d thought it would be.

He felt, once again, as if he should say something, but he didn’t have it in him to talk. The idea of speaking seemed almost laughable.

He glanced momentarily at the food. He didn’t feel hungry for some reason. In fact, he was feeling very little at all. There was just a void. A void in his stomach, in his heart, in his head… Everything important, everywhere he knew there should be something, he just felt empty. Numb.

Tom stayed still where he was. Harry knew that Tom was watching him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

When Tom didn’t pull away, Harry took Tom’s hand, movements slow but not hesitant. He pulled Tom’s arm to his chest, curling up.

After a long moment, when it became clear that Harry’s newfound Koala tendencies weren’t going to disappear, Tom shifted again. This time, instead of moving away, he lay down next to him, wrapping his free arm over Harry, pulling him closer. Harry leaned his forehead to Tom’s collarbone, curling up further.

* * *

A calm, numb void was all he was. Not Harry, not a freak, not a main character in this story, but anonymous, unknown, unreal, unknowable. No one, nothing. It was similar to the way he felt inside his cupboard: a detached, comforting, somewhat lonely kind of safety.

He prefers it this way. He likes it in his cupboard.

* * *

Later, though how much later, he couldn’t tell, he resurfaced. He didn’t wake up, because he hadn’t been asleep, but it was something similar. The first thing he became aware of were half-dried tear tracks on his face.

Tom was still there. Harry raised his head and gazed at Tom’s face. Tom noticed him move and looked down, his eyes meeting Harry’s green ones. He still looked tired, but seemed better than when Harry first returned, if not, perhaps, a bit sadder somehow.

Harry slowly pulled away and sat up. He stopped clutching Tom’s arm to his chest in favor of just holding his hand.

He looked at Tom, who just patiently looked back at him. Tom was ambitious and future-driven, and with that came no small amount of impatience, no matter how well Tom could hide it, and so that patience made the soft, warm feeling Harry had come to associate with Tom over the years well up inside him.

“I’m s—“ Harry paused and swallowed. His voice sounded odd to his own ears. After a moment he shook his head with a silent sigh, the words not coming to him.

Tom understood, of course.

“I’m glad you're back,” he murmured, reaching to gently touch Harry’s face. His touch was cautious and careful, but not as if Harry was fragile, more like he might disappear. “I was…”  _ Worried. Angry. Scared. _

“I know,” Harry managed, voice quiet, leaning into Tom’s hand.

Tom smiled at him. They were silent for a moment, just soaking up each other’s presence.

“Do you want to eat?” Tom asked.

Harry still didn’t feel hungry, oddly enough. He definitely needed to eat though, and really he should be feeling much worse, given how little food he’d gotten while kidnapped. But he’d never really been one to deny food when it was offered to him, having gone so much of his life without, so he nodded.

Tom reluctantly started to stand so that Harry could reach the food easier, but Harry tightened his hold on his hand.

“Please stay,” he said. He winced at how vulnerable he sounded. How...weak. He let go of Tom’s hand, feeling self-conscious in a way he hadn’t around Tom since they’d gotten together. “I just…”  _ want you with me. Close to me. _

“Okay,” Tom said easily, taking Harry’s hand back in his own, not calling Harry out on his weakness. They sat with their backs against the headboard, and Tom passed the food, a bowl of soup, to Harry.

* * *

As Harry ate, he watched Tom’s face. He always enjoyed observing the subtle flickers of emotion on his face, the thoughts behind those beautiful eyes. Tom’s mask was impeccable, even when compared to other Slytherins, and while Harry liked trying to figure out what was going on behind it, he liked even more the way Tom didn’t bother keeping it up completely when it was just the two of them.

The emotions Harry spotted were mostly negative at the moment. Anger towards Harry’s kidnappers was one of the most prominent, and Harry momentarily found himself wishing they were still alive so Tom could kill them before remembering why he’d killed them and easily dismissing the thought. They’d think of another way for Tom to release it all.

They  _ had  _ been meaning to look into necromancy and soul magic…

He finished his food and put the bowl on the table on his side of the bed. Then he looked at Tom, raising a hand to touch his face, and he refocused on Harry.

Tom’s focus was never on just one thing. He was good at pretending, of course, and he’d never let himself lose focus on the present moment completely (excluding a few unique occasions when it was just him and Harry). He was ambitious, insanely intelligent, and had a mind as restless as Harry’s own. He was always planning, scheming, theorizing, remembering, his mind everywhere at once even when he seemed completely focused.

It was different with Harry. He didn’t stop doing that, of course, but with other people it was likely that most of Tom’s thought process was unrelated to them. When it was Harry, he could tell a majority of those other thoughts involved him. (And he wasn’t just imagining it; Tom had complained enough times by now, in a tone of exasperated fondness, that Harry was constantly taking over his mind, for him to be certain it’s true.)

The idea of someone thinking about him in such a significant way would probably have made Harry uncomfortable if it were anyone else. But this was Tom, and so he rarely found it within himself to be overly bothered by it.

Tom was special like that.

Harry looked at Tom, whose tired face showed a hint of a fond warmth as he looked back at him. Harry smiled at the familiar expression reserved just for him. He moved his hand from Tom’s face to their clasped hands in his lap. He rested his head on Tom’s shoulder and closed his eyes with a slow exhale.

* * *

Harry actually did fall asleep this time. When he woke up, his head was clearer than before, but he had faint echoes of a nightmare lingering in his head.

He had a feeling he was going to be getting a lot of those, and that they’d get worse in the time to come.

Tom was next to him, looking at him a bit worriedly. He had noticed the nightmare as it was happening, no doubt, but hadn’t deemed the distress great enough to warrant waking him up.

(If they woke each other up every time they had a nightmare, they would’ve both died of exhaustion a long time ago.)

Harry took his hand, intertwining their fingers. Tom didn’t ask him what he was dreaming about or what happened while he was kidnapped, trusting Harry to tell him if he needed to know. That knowledge is really what made the difference.

“You’re on the radar of dark traditional purebloods outside of Hogwarts,” Harry told him. “Your hatred of muggles redeems you a bit for some, but many see you as a potential threat.” He paused. “The ones that kidnapped me, they wanted information. About you.”

Tom looked at him for a moment, studying his face. “You didn’t tell them anything?” Tom asked. His voice didn’t sound like it was judging either way, and that’s because he knew that Harry wouldn’t have told them anything unless he had to. What he was really asking was  _ how bad was what they did to you? _

“I almost did,” Harry admitted after a moment. “A couple times. There were a few times when I—“ he stopped, swallowed, continued, “I would’ve. There were a few times when I would have if I could have.”

Memories played behind his eyes, and Harry felt sick.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, and Harry looked at him with surprise and confusion. “We knew that my ambitions would bring negative attention, I should’ve realized some of that would end up directed at you. I shouldn’t have put you at risk.”

Harry shook his head. “I knew this was a possibility,” he said. “I knew the risks when I suggested we date, and I knew them when we decided we wouldn’t hide that we’re together. I’ve known that associating with you would be dangerous in some way since the moment I saw you on the train back in first year. I knew you were dangerous, and that you’d attract dangerous people…” he shook his head again. “My safety isn’t your responsibility, Tom.”

“I don’t like it when you're hurt,” Tom said. “I hate the idea that someone might target you to hurt me...especially because it would actually work. I wish you never had to be in pain. And if you died—“ he cut himself off, unable to complete that thought. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and looking at Harry. “I care about you,” he confided quietly. This was news to neither of them, but Tom always said it like it was some huge revelation and Harry’s heart still skipped a beat every time Tom admitted it. “I hate that this happened, and I hate that it happened because of me. Even if you agreed to it.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held Tom’s hand tighter, hoping to convey that he felt the same. They were silent for a long moment.

“You say you knew the risks,” Tom said. “Do they seem different now that they’ve actually happened?”

“Yeah,” Harry said after a moment of thought. “It feels more—real, now.”

“Now that you’ve actually experienced it, after what you went though,” Tom began, voice and face neutral in a careful way that Harry could tell meant he hated what he was about to say, “I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to break up with me.”

Harry gripped Tom’s hand tightly as memories of what happened flashed behind his eyes, fear rushing through him. “No,” he said, surprising both of them with the adamance of the denial. After a moment he continued, voice more normal, “I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay as long as you want me.” He paused as the memories continued. “...It really was terrible, though,” he admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Tom said hurriedly, to reassure Harry, sounding relieved. “I don’t want to leave you either. But I don’t want this happening again if we can help it.” He paused. “We could fake a break up, and keep our relationship secret?” he suggested hesitantly after a moment.

Harry bit his lip and thought for a moment before sighing. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, sounding resigned. “As long as it’s not for real.”

Harry realized he was still tightly squeezing Tom’s hand and immediately loosened his grip. Tom just smiled at him and kissed the top of his head.

_ “I’m so glad you’re back,”  _ he said quietly in Parseltongue.

Harry moved so that he was in Tom’s lap, back to the other’s chest.  _ “I’m back where I’m supposed to be,”  _ he replied.  _ “Back where I want to be.” _

Tom wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Harry’s head. Harry closed his eyes and sighed, letting himself relax. Despite the circumstances, and the previous conversation, things were as secure as they always were. It would be different, of course, and maybe they still had some things to work out, but overall their relationship was still intact, and still strong, and still good.

Harry couldn’t remember ever having been okay. When he was younger, he had dreamed of a future where he would be okay, but he had long since abandoned his hopes of a good future in favor of surviving long enough to have  _ any _ future.

Harry wasn’t okay. He knew that Tom wasn’t either. He doubted that was going to change. But  _ they  _ were okay.

And that, Harry decided, was more than enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is called Missing — part one because if you guys like it, I might make a part two about Harry while he was kidnapped and maybe a part three with them dealing with trauma that the whole affair left him with.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and if I should go ahead and make that part part two and three!


End file.
